You're Such A Pleater
by enarcoyufuin
Summary: "You're such a, uh, a...pleater! " "I am not a 'pleater', da." "I'm damn sure you are!" RusAme. Rated T just in case.


You're Such a Pleater

Summary: "You're such a, uh, a...pleater! " "I am not a "pleater", da." "I'm damn sure you are!" RusAme. Rated T just to be sure.

**A/N: Another RusAme story by moi! This might be a bit rough, but I'm pretty sure it's that way because I don't have a beta reader or any of that stuff. I type as I think, so excuse the incorrect grammar if you see any. Peggle is my favorite game, and it inspired me to write this! Oh, and please don't look up pleater, I made it up! (Also I fixed the bug. Thanks for pointing it out, Starqueen88!)**

**Writing fan fiction on the way to school is quite a challenge! But enjoy!**

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There are two things that Russia likes about Game Night with America: 1) his unbound determination to win every single video game, and 2) his reactions when he lost and did not want to admit that he was a total sore loser. This, coupled with the fact that tonight they were playing America's favorite strategy arcade game, made it all the more sweeter when he claimed victory.

"Aw, Russia, why'd you take my shot? I was gonna shoot there." America whined as he saw that Russia had lightened half of the pegs with one shot, earning himself thousands of points.

America couldn't believe how this was turning out. He purposefully chose his favorite game, believing himself to be an expert, playing and restarting the game several times. And now, Russia was using his commie mind powers to cheat! Yes, that had to be the only reason why he's been winning for an hour straight.

America lined up his next ball with the nearest orange peg and commented, "Watch and learn, Russki, as I utterly cream you with this. One. Shot." The blond mashed the A button on his controller and his ball was sent flying, hitting the peg and a few blue ones. America leaned forward in desperation, hoping that luck would favor him for once and give him a Free Ball.

Russia smirked at his highly concentrated face and joined him in watching the screen, knowing that the bucket was too fast for the silver ball.

No dice.

America rocketed out of his chair in frustration and threw a little temper tantrum, flailing his arms and yelling at the top of his lungs. Russia snorted. "Tch. Such a child. " The ashen blond had no doubt that he would hear the choir sing his praise yet again as he focused his last shot on the two remaining orange pegs on the board.

The camera closed in on the last peg as the hit started the choir and flew to any blue pegs, catching them in its path. And, to add insult to injury, that same ball landed in the 100,000 points bonus slot.

To rub it in his face, Russia pressed the Y button repeatedly, replaying his victory spastically. In response, America growled and watched over his knees, sulking. Russia smiled innocently as he walked over to the sore loser and declared, "I win again, Amerika."

America spat out a " whatever" and turned away, not wanting to see the taller nation's boasting. Assuming that he wouldn't hear him, he mumbled out a quiet accusation, which the aforementioned winner could not help but slightly hear.

"What did you say, Amerika? I am too busy basking in my own glory to listen. " Russia egged on, at to which the golden blond spun around quickly with absolute fury in his expressive eyes and shouted, "You're such a, uh, a...pleater!" "I am not a 'pleater', da, for I do not even know what that means-" He countered, but was interrupted by a pointing finger "I'm damn sure you are! A pleater! A Peggle Cheater!"

Russia placed his hand on his chin and nodded, not actually understanding. "Amerika," he started, "What is with you and creating new words out of the blue such as this? No wonder your Oxford's dictionary has no moral backing to it." After complete silence from the other nation, he sighed deeply and started up the next level.

Filled with pegs of different colors sliding on the board and placed in wacky positions, Russia immediately initiated his plan. Grabbing America's controller and placing it in his left hand, he began to throw the game. Winning of course is fun, but he wanted to see his sunflower smiling, not down in the dumps.

It wasn't long until the choir rang out again and America looked up from his spot on the floor. Thinking that the Russian nation had claimed victory yet again, he slightly locked his eyes on the person in question, only to see (his) controller in his hands and (his) username light up like a welcoming beacon.

Leaving his slump, America stared at Russia, astonished. He knew Russia liked to be on top (in more ways than one ;)) and to find out that he lost the game, on _purpose_, just for _him_, was unbelievable.

Silently, he walked over to him and gave him a small peck on the lips. "Thanks for throwing the game for me. Y'know, you didn't have to do that-" America said, but was pulled down into his lap for a deeper kiss. Letting go of the younger nation, Russia replied, "Moy podsolnechnika has to be happy all the time, da? I do not care about silly game." America shook his head, Nantucket swaying in every direction. "Nah, it was just me being a Debbie-Downer and ruining the spirit of Game Night."

He reached over for his striped controller and used the joystick to restart the level. Russia piped up,  
"Starting anew, da? Seems fair." And America couldn't help but agree.

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Translations:

Moy podsolnechnika- My sunflower

Da- Yes

**(Notice that this time, I didn't use Cyrillic. This is because I typed this offline. *sheepish*)**


End file.
